Dr Hot Buns, MD
by LittleEvilIsa
Summary: Modern day AU. At Panem Memorial Hospital, overachieving Katniss Everdeen and charming Peeta Mellark compete to be the best cardiothoracic surgeon of the country. For Prompts in Panem, round 6 "Peeta's Paint Box", day 5 "blue".


**My never ending gratitude goes to neophytehgfan on Tumblr for pre-reading this, and to the amazing titania522/ct522 for betaing this at speed speed!**

**If you think you recognize something from Grey's Anatomy, you do. I took the cases from the series, because I'm no doctor so I don't exactly know how that world works.**

**I don't own THG.**

**Now, on to reading!**

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**Chapter 1. Your face is so stupid, I want to ride it.**

If you happen to meet Peeta Mellark, don't let the man fool you.

He may have wavy hair as golden as wheat and eyes as blue as the sunny sky; he may have the perfectly crooked smile, created by Aphrodite herself to make women – and sometimes men – swoon; he may have a handsome face, with that cute dimple on his chin and that jaw carved in marble; he may be – I'm reporting what I've heard through the grapevine – quite skilled in the art of giving... relief to women; he may be loved by all the nurses because he always brings them home-made cookies and other baked goods; he may have the body of a Greek god, all – it seems – ripped muscles straining the blue material of his scrubs, to the point that nurses – and some doctors, too – call him "Doctor Hot Buns", and not for his baked goods; he may always be helpful, charming, well-spoken, smart, incredibly good with kids. But I know better.

Peeta Mellark is a _nightmare_.

He is cocky, presumptuous, a womanizer, a know-it-all, but more than anything else, a thief.

It all started in med school.

Since the day my father almost died of cardiac arrest in front of me when I was eleven and was saved by a doctor coincidentally passing by, I strove to become the best cardiothoracic surgeon that has ever been, always pushing myself over my limit to be the best in every activity, academic or not. I aced high school. I was captain of the track team, vice-captain of the cheerleaders, and president of the student council. I was valedictorian. I was accepted in every college I applied to, choosing to stay in Pennsylvania to be closer to family. I graduated from PSU with a GPA of 3.8, first of my class. I got into University of Washington in the blink of an eye. I thought UW would have been a piece of cake.

You can imagine how I felt when, for the entirety of the first week, this little asshat that always arrived five minutes late to every class would beat me at everything. And when, out of anger more than anything else, I asked him how he knew all those things, he just shrugged and answered me, "I have a photographic memory." And when I told him that I would be the best once again because I had a GPA of 3.8 from PSU, he replied, "Nice! I graduated from Johns Hopkins with a GPA of 3.9."

From that day, I swore that I would have destroyed him. No parties, no drinking, no boys for me. Only studying. Not that there had been that much of those other things anyway, but still – I mean, I had a boyfriend in high school, Gale, but we broke up when he realized that to me school was more important than him. And in the meantime, Mellark went to parties, drank, fucked all the girls in our class – and I think a couple of teachers, too – and the only thing he had to do apparently was read a text book three or four times and smile that ridiculous crooked smile of his.

Our results were pretty much the same all the time, to the point that I was pretty vocal about my hatred for the man.

Neither of us was too superior to prank the other. He hanged an anatomical model outside my dorm room, and I peed my pants a little. I put food coloring in his bottle of body wash, so that he looked like a Smurf for two days. He gave me a jewelry box saying that it was a way to apologize and end our dispute, when it actually was full of crickets that invaded my car. I gave him a concussion – which actually wasn't really what I wanted to do; let's just say that the classic bucket of water over the door can go horribly wrong.

We became famous on campus for our rivalry.

I thought that after med school I would finally be free from Mellark. Then I found out we both were matched for the residency at Panem Memorial Hospital, in DC.

You may think that it's normal to be a bit competitive during the first years as a resident, when you don't know exactly what you want to specialize in. The problem is, we both knew what we wanted our role at PMH to be: the pupil of Dr. Haymitch Abernathy, Chief surgeon of the Department of Cardiothoracic Surgery. The man is a god. People come from all over the States to have him as a doctor. All residents would kill to have him as a mentor.

And it started all over again.

I got stuck in the elevator with a patient with a serious gunshot wound to his chest and when the man's blood pressure suddenly dropped drastically, I had to open him and do an emergency pericardiotomy and aortic clamping. Not even a month later, Mellark got to scrub in in _my_ big surgery because he remembered an article he had read years before that helped him realize that great pain with no apparent cause could be a symptom of a subarachnoid hemorrhage.

I got to assist Dr. Abernathy in a risky operation to get rid of a dangerous coronary aneurysm on a man that the year prior had had myocardial infarction. Mellark was the miracle man that helped a little boy out of the depression which had cause him to reject the first heart he had been donated.

I found out there was an experimental method to do a bypass on a man allergic to anesthesia when he was awake, thanks to an upper thoracic epidural. Mellark assisted in a cardiac autotransplantation.

I operated in laparoscopy. Mellark put the heart back in the chest of a baby who was born with extrathoracic heart.

Day after day, year after year, me and Mellark fought tooth and nail to get into Dr. Abernathy's good graces, the OR being our preferred battlefield. There is no one in the hospital that doesn't know about this and isn't on the side of one of us. And, since Mellark is oh so loved by everyone here, I don't have many supporters. The fact that a scowl is my main facial expression may play a part in this situation.

But who cares what a bunch of easily played doctors think about me? I am one of the best surgeons at PMH, which is the only thing that matters to me. And I'm friend with Madge Undersee, a fellow intern. Her father is a senator, so, you know, I have some connections.

But today, after almost eight years of figuratively fighting to the death, everything will change. Abernathy has realized that he is getting old, and that he can't keep up with all the duties of a chief and all his patients, so he decided to appoint an assistant between the fourth year residents. Which basically means I'm a step away from achieving the goal of a lifetime. The only obstacle in my way is Mellark.

The interns are all impatiently waiting in front of the elevator for Abernathy's turn to start. Everytime the elevator dings, everyone tenses up. I think we scared pretty much everyone that stepped out of there.

People are nervous, pacing around and biting their nails. If I gave a damn about them, I'd think it cute. They all know that their odds are close to none when compared to Mellark's and mine. We are the only two residents Abernathy wants in his OR lately, since our success rates are the highest. Cato Martins screwed up seven times in a row, and he was lucky that Tresh Montgomery – whose residency is in plastic surgery, so I'm sure you can understand the problem here – stepped in the last time before he could kill that poor lady. And Glimmer Donovan cheated on Dr. Gloss Grover, the anesthetist that usually works with Abernathy, with his sister, it seems, so she's not welcome in the OR at all.

"The job is practically mine, Mellark." I tell him between sips of my morning coffee.

"Don't be so sure about it, Everdeen."

"Oh, I am so sure about it that I prepared a little number for you."

He snorts. "We'll see." He scratches his five o'clock shadow, and my eyes inadvertently zero in on a little bruise under his jaw that looks suspiciously like a hickey. It irritates me to no end. What other naive girl did he fuck this time?

The ding of the elevator distracts me from my intention to vocally criticize Mellark's lifestyle.

Way too many heads turn towards Abernathy as he steps out, and he freezes when he see all the residents. He hasn't had his morning coffee yet, I can see it from the lack of his usual sarcastic mug.

Abernathy sighs. "What the hell do you want so early in the morning?"

"You said you would appoint your new assistant today, sir." says Marvel Abbots.

"And you ambush me before I even have the chance to put my scrubs on?" grumbles the doctor. God, he is impossible in the morning. Since none of us move, Abernathy sighs once again, waving his hand. "Fine. Okay. I wanted to do it in a more official way, but you beasts can't wait. Everdeen." He points his finger at me. "You're my new assistant. There. Now, out of my way." That said, he shoves past our group towards his office, still grumbling.

I pump my fist in the air, barely containing my winning smile. I catch Mellark trying to sneak away unnoticed, and I can't pass up the opportunity to brag about my victory. "Where are you going, Mellark? I've got something to show you!"

He groans, his head falling backward. He then turns around, his eyebrows raised in unamused question.

I'm really proud of the little dance I assembled for this. I even put a pretend ass-slapping in it. My cheerleading past came really in hand with the dance moves and the song. I take a deep breath and...

"Hey, listen!/ I'm Katniss Everdeen,/ the best surgeon that has ever been./ You know, you can try to be like me,/ but I'm so far you can't even see me./ I'm perfect, man. I don't have a glitch./ And you, Mellark, you're just my bitch./ You can't win, you're just too tired./ 'Cause I'm Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!"

As I raise my hands in the final pose, Johanna Mason, the Chief Resident, passes by. She mimics licking her middle fingers and touching my ass with them, making a 'psss' sound.

"Um... Thanks, Dr. Mason?" I say when I'm over my initial surprise.

"Don't mention it, Everdeen." the woman answers as she keeps going on her way.

Mellark has both his hands clasped in front of his face, his index fingers tapping against his mouth. "Charming." he says. "Did you pay Mason to do that?"

"Honestly, I didn't even know she was there."

Mellark takes a deep breath and releases it in a short burst. "Yeah, well. Congratulation. You deserved it." he says, and then walks away.

I'm surprised by this exchange. I wanted Mellark to feel annoyed – and a just a little bit humiliated – by my bragging. But there was no sarcasm or venom in his voice. That's not the reaction I hoped for.

"Having fun, Dr. Everdeen?" I hear suddenly from behind me.

Shit.

I slowly turn around, already in a cold sweat, and here he is, Dr. Plutarch Heavensbee, Chief of Surgery here at PMH. Now I understand why Mellark walked away without a protest. He saw Heavensbee. That asshole. "Chief! Sir. Good morning." I stutter.

"You know, Everdeen." he says with a cold smile. "If this were a talent show, I'd be impressed. But it isn't. Don't you have your rounds to do?"

"Yeah. Yes, sir. Going right now." I run away when I still have the chance.

Abernathy can be a pain in the ass, but God if he is the best mentor I could ever ask for. I scrubbed in in all his surgeries so far, and he showed me so many fascinating techniques that he hadn't before. He said that these are the perks of being his assistant. I find it kind of unfair, he could have taught those to every intern that isn't his assistant, too. I could have learned all these things years ago!

Downside: this can be a very tiring job. I'm the one doing all the post op, and it often happens that I have to do a double shift to cover Abernathy when he has to be at board meetings, which has already happened several times this month alone. Around the hospital there's the joke they're preparing a rebellion.

Yesterday was one of those days. We finally got the new heart for the younger of the two siblings that came at different times during this past six month and were both diagnosed with large cardiomyopathy. We solved the girl's problem with a pacemaker, but her little brother needed a heart transplant. After that, Abernathy disappeared somewhere with Chief Heavensbee, and I was left, tired as ever, to do his round.

After that I had eight hours before my day started, and I couldn't give up on a hot bath and some sleep in my own bed. I fell asleep in the bathtub, and just dragged myself to the bedroom when I woke, passing out the moment my head hit the pillow.

That is how I forgot to charge my damn pager. I'm waiting for the elevator and deciding if the pager can survive the round or if I should recharge it before it start, when I hear an heavy thread approaching.

"Morning, Katniss." he says.

"Mellark." I glare at my pager, too irritated with this piece of crap of technology to spare him a glance.

"What did it do to you?"

"What?"

"Your pager." He points to it. "What did it do to get the glare?"

"Oh. Nothing. Almost dead."

"You better recharge it, then."

"Yeah." I eye him suspiciously. What the hell does he want from me? We don't talk if not to insult each other. But he has a friendly expression on, and doesn't seem willing to say anything bad.

The elevator's door opens to let us in. Mellark gestures for me to get in first.

"So." he starts as he pushes the button for the fourth floor, where the interns' locker room is. "That dance last month. It was good. When did you learn that?"

What is he getting at with this sudden interest? "I was a cheerleader in high school."

His eyes widens. "Really?"

My eyes roll to the back of my head of their own volition. "What is wrong with that?"

"Oh, nothing. Just... I'd have never pegged you for a cheerleader kind of girl."

And what's that supposed to mean? I fold my arms in front of me. "And what kind of girl would you peg me for?"

"Well, the smart, not-so-shy girl that always gets shit done." He smiles a little, the left corner of his mouth lifting more than the right. "Probably in the student council."

I eye him before turning my face in front of me. "I was president." I announce with pride. "And just so you know, I was vice-captain of the cheerleader and captain of the track team."

"Sweet! I was vice-president. But I was captain of both the wrestling team and the debate team." The enthusiasm in his voice is way too suspicious to let it slide again. There must me something behind all this flattering bullshit.

I sharply turn to him. "What do you want, Mellark?"

His smile holds up for a second, then starts waver. Then he sighs, his head falling forward. "Okay. Yeah, you got me." Ah, there it is, the hidden agenda. "Listen, now that you're Abernathy's assistant, you get to scrub in with him every time. And I doubt that from next year I will ever see his OR ever again..."

"So?"

"So, you know that next week we are going to separate the Palmer twins." Of course I know it. Tammy and Cece Palmer are newborn conjoined twins attached at the head. It's a tricky operation, and a long one at that, made even more problematic by Tammy's heart doing more work than Cece's. The baby girls need to be separated as soon as possible. But why is he telling me this? "I'm on Crane's team, which is awesome because it means I will drilling holes in the skull for the separation."

Well, it is kinda awesome. But I still don't understand why this should matter to me. "Again. So?"

"Switch places with me."

I don't think I understand. Is he really giving me one of the most important surgeries this hospital has ever seen? In exchange for what, exactly?

"You can have the Palmers, and I'll have one last major operation with Abernathy."

Oh, here is the catch. He wants to rob me of yet one more surgery, the little shit. Hell to the no. I feel the anger mount rapidly in me. Barely containing my venom, I hiss, "No." The elevator gets to the fourth floor in that moment, and I stomps out of it, outraged.

"C'mon, Katniss!" says Mellark, following me along the hallways.

"It's Dr. Everdeen to you." I spit out.

"Please! I will never get a chance at doing something with Abernathy! I just want a last chance!"

I stop and turn to him. "By stealing another surgery from me?" I seethe. "I don't give a damn about Crane and his fancy operations. I worked my ass all my life to get someone like Abernathy to be my mentor, and I won't let you take that away from me."

Mellark rubs his forehead. "I just want to do it a last time." he says, his tone pleading. "I really, really want to."

"Well, sucks to be you." With that, I walk to the locker room, ready to expend my pent up anger walking around the ward, instead of on his face.

I'm almost done with my round when Lavinia, one of the few nurses that doesn't hate me, comes running in the room.

"Dr. Everdeen, Dr. Abernathy is looking for you!" the redhead says almost out of breath.

"What happened?"

"It's about the siblings suffering from cardiomyopathy. The girl was here with their parents visiting the boy when she suddenly passed out. She's in surgery right now."

I sprint out of the room without even apologize to the elder Mrs. Sae, who I was seeing at that moment. "Why didn't you page me?" I ask to Lavinia who is running through the hallways with me.

"We tried, but we couldn't!"

I reach for the pager hanging around my neck, and the piece of crap is... dead.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

"Which OR?"

"Four!"

Once in the gallery, I see Abernathy is already working on the girl – from here, I think I see him inserting an LVAD, which means that her pacemaker failed. Helping Abernathy is someone that I could recognize everywhere, especially because of that ridiculous orange scrub cap. Mellark.

I switch on the intercom. "I'm here, Dr. Abernathy. What do you need me to do?"

Abernathy doesn't even lift his eyes to look at me. "I don't need you, Everdeen. Mellark is doing just fine."

"But, sir!" I try to protest. The girl is my patient! I followed her and her brother since day one. He can't leave me out of the OR if one of them needs surgery again.

"I said I don't need you, Everdeen. Now, out of the gallery." He casts me a glance so full of disappointment that every protest dies on my tongue, and I leave the gallery in shame.

This is all Mellark's fault. Of course it is. If he hadn't distracted me in the elevator, I would have remembered to recharge my pager before doing my round. Most likely, he was the one insisting to do the surgery when Abernathy couldn't reach me. And now that asshole was operating on _my_ patient. Again.

I attack Mellark as soon as he is out of the OR, after the surgery. He wasn't expecting me to be there, so I take him by surprise enough to shove him against the wall. "You asshole! You stole my surgery!"

"I didn't steal anything." Mellark hisses, pushing away my hand that is still pressing on his chest.

"Yes, you did! That was my patient in there! Just because you were here sooner than me, it doesn't mean you can have my case!"

For the first time in eight years I've been knowing him, I see a sneer take over Mellark's face. "Well, sucks to be you." he says, throwing back at me the words I told him earlier today.

I don't know what it is exactly that I feel. Is it disbelief? Hurt? What I'm sure about is that right after that, I feel angry. So much angrier than before. How dare he? Fucking asshole! "You-"

"Everdeen." The stern voice of Dr. Abernathy interrupts me. He walks briskly past us. "My office. Now."

Me and Mellark look at each other in anger for a long second, our breath labored, then I follow my mentor – at least, I hope he still is.

When we are in the office, Abernathy points to one of the chairs in front of his desk, implying that he wants me to sit. He goes to the liquor cabinet in the left corner of the room, pours himself half a glass of a brown liquid that looks like bourbon. I don't think he should drink during his shift, but I don't dare point it out. I sit silently as he drains the glass.

"What was that outside of my OR, Everdeen?" the doctor asks.

I square my shoulders, my face tense. "You can't let Mellark take my patients, sir. He doesn't deserve it."

Abernathy turns around, disbelief painted all over his face. "I'm sorry?"

"I've dedicated my life so far to becoming the best surgeon possible, and since med school, all he has been doing is ruining things for me. I worked harder and harder, I gave everything up to be better than him. To prove that hard work has to be praised. But he kept ruining things. He never did much better than me, he never worked as much as me, yet he got so many things that were rightly mine. I have nothing in my life but this work, while he is going around screwing every woman he finds on his way, and then he just waltzes into the OR and steals my surgery and–"

"I'll stop you now, Everdeen, before you embarrass yourself even more." He puts both his hands flat on his desk. "He didn't steal anything from you. He just happen to be around when the girl passed out. And if you want to know it, he told the nurse to page you first."

I'm shocked by this news. He wanted to page me? But he was right there! He could have simply taken control of the situation and saved the day. Well, I guess he actually did. But, why try to reach me first?

Abernathy keeps speaking. "Since you were nowhere to be found, I told Mellark to scrub in. And I did it because he was there. So, if there is someone who doesn't deserve the case, that is you. In fact, you're off the case, Everdeen."

"What? You ca–"

"Shut up, Everdeen. I'm not done." He waits a second for me to shut my mouth. "I don't really like you as a person, because, let's face it, you can be a real pain in my ass. But I respect you as a doctor. You are one of the most brilliant mind in these godforsaken place. I think you have the potential to become one of the best cardiothoracic surgeons of the country. And I sort of like to be your mentor. I see something of me in you, the desire to be the best, to save the unsaveable. So I'm gonna say it in a very open manner. I don't give a shit about you. I don't care about your personal life. Or Mellark's personal life, for that matter. Because once you get into this hospital, into my OR, your personal life doesn't exist. I'm really fed up with this drama bullshit, thanks to Donovan. So, I don't fucking care if Mellark has been screwing every woman in this hospital, hell, in the entire country, except for you. You talk about this between the two of you, outside of here. And be glad I was the one stopping you and not the Chief, or you would have gotten a disciplinary action."

I'm mortified by the implication that I might be jealous of Mellark's escapades, so I almost miss the last part. "You're not giving me one?" I can't believe I'm getting away with this situation without any serious repercussion other than being cut out of a case. "Am I... am I still you assistant, sir?"

Abernathy sighs deeply and sits at his desk, rubbing his temple. "You are. But just because you don't chit-chat in the OR. I hate when people do that."

"Thank you, sir." I whisper.

"Yeah, yeah. But you won't be so lucky next time. You really disappointed me today. You did a rookie mistake, and assaulted a co-worker on top of it. Charge your fucking pager. And if I see you even glare in Mellark's direction, I will take action. Are we clear?"

I nod.

"Good. Get out of here."

I leave his office at light speed.

These have been three very long weeks.

Me and Mellark have been avoiding each other the whole time. I stayed in Cardio, he went whenever he had to. When our paths crossed, we would simply walk straight past each other, as if the other wasn't even there. After eight years of fighting, this is a very drastic change that no one has missed.

Nobody seems to know about the incident outside of OR four, which means Mellark didn't tell anybody. Madge tried asking me what happened between us, but there's no way in hell I'm talking about my breakdown.

Abernathy hasn't brought it up again, and I really appreciate it, even if he probably does it for his own peace of mind. He is still teaching me new stuff, so I don't think he is still that mad at me. At least I hope.

But no matter how long one tries to avoid a confrontation, there are things that are just destined to happen.

It is the only reason I can think about for me and Mellark being in the same OR today, operating the same patient. The man was in a car accident. He wasn't wearing a seat belt, so he flew out of the windshield, hitting his head and causing internal bleeding located around the area of the superior vena cava. So I'm fixing the vein with Abernathy, while Mellark is helping Dr. Crane containing the intracranial hemorrhage.

It was one of the most quiet operations I've ever done. Crane tried to say something that wasn't an instruction to part of the medical equipe, but he didn't have much success.

Now, as we get rid of the bloody scrubs, the patient stable and wheeled out towards ICU, Crane tries again to start a conversation.

"So, Mellark, Everdeen." he says leaning against a sink. "Your fifth year is around the corner. Do you know what you would like to specialize in? Everdeen, we would make good use of those pretty hands of your in Neuro." A sickening smile spreads over his lips, and I have a feeling that his sentence has a double entendre. And this entendre doesn't seem to be lost on Mellark and Abernathy, because both men glare at Crane menacingly.

I try to dissipate the tension. "I'm sorry, I've always wanted to be a cardiac surgeon."

"You heard the lady, Crane" Abernathy intervenes. "Her hands belong to my hearts. So, step back." I'm sure he said it as a warning, but Crane laughs it off.

"It's a pity. What about you, Mellark? You were so good with the Palmer twins."

Mellark hesitates for a moment. "Um... I was thinking about Pediatrics."

I freeze. What did he just say?

"Really?" Abernathy asks him, he too surprised. But surely not as much as me.

"Yeah. I've been spending a lot of time there with Dr. Cresta in this last year, and I really like it. Those kids are amazing. Just being able to help them have a chance to have a full life is... I don't know, it's... exhilarating. Plus, Dr. Cresta is just waiting for someone to work with her on her pro bono project for the kids in Africa who don't have access to proper medical treatments, and I would die to be a part of that."

I can't believe it. Is he for real? I look at the serious look on his face, that spark in his eyes that is so familiar yet so new. Is he really thinking about leaving Cardio? No! He can't do that! He wanted to be a cardiothoracic surgeon. He was my only real rival all this time, and now he just... He can't do that!

I dispose of my scrubs as I walk to the door. "Dr. Mellark?" I call behind me, only turning around when he doesn't answer me. "A word? In private?"

He is surprised. Probably because I'm finally talking to him again more than because I asked. So he just nods and follow me.

Over his shoulder, I can see Abernathy glaring at me and mouthing, "Disciplinary action."

I shake my head to indicate that I won't do anything bad. Or at least I don't think I will.

Mellark follows me to the first on-call room I find. He doesn't speak while I open the door and motion for him to enter.

"Okay, Mellark." I say, closing the door behind me. I cross my arms in front of me. "What the fuck was that story?"

"What story?" he asks.

"The one about you leaving Cardio for Pediatrics."

The confusion leaves his face, and he suddenly looks so tired. "Why do you care? How does it even have anything to do with you?"

"It does!" I almost shout. "You can't leave Cardio like that! You always wanted to be here! You were the only competition I had all these years. You were a pain in my ass for _eight_ _fucking years_! And now what? Just because you're not Abernathy's assistant, you just... give up on it?"

"Okay, first of all, I'm not giving up. I'm choosing something else. Something that can give me joy." I scoff. _Bullshit_. Mellark keeps talking. "Secondly, why do you even care? If I was such a nuisance to you, shouldn't you be happy to get rid of me?"

I throw my hands up. "Not like this! I want to win this fair and square. You don't get to walk away from it. I want to prove that I'm better than a moron that spends his life partying and screwing women left and right."

"I don't understand what my personal life has to do with this."

"It has _everything_ to do with this!"

"How?!"

"I gave up on everything to be better than you! I gave up on fun, friends... boyfriends! I haven't seen a naked man for recreational purposes in eight years! You know how fucking long that is? I had to give up on everything, but you... not you. You still could do whatever you wanted because you have that photographic memory of yours. And because, if you ever had a problem, you were able to get out of it with just a compliment and a flash of that stupidly gorgeous smile of yours!"

He is silent for a long moment, watching me as I try to rein in my anger, my chest heaving with deep breaths. Then a smaller version of that smile blooms on his face. "You think I have a stupidly gorgeous smile?"

I blush. I don't blush. I'm a strong, confident, independent woman and, _goddammit_, I don't blush. But then how else can I explain how hot my face feels right now? "That is not the point!" I sputter, trying to change the subject.

His smile dies all together, and suddenly he is invading my personal space. "Then, what is your point? Because I. Don't. Fucking. Get it."

"My point is..." His face is so close to mine that I can feel his harsh breathing fanning over my mouth and nose. He has freckles. Over the ridge of his nose. How didn't I notice this before? "My point is..." His nostrils flares with every exhale. His eyes are a darker shade of blue than usual, his pupils dilating rapidly. His jaw clench once, twice. His lips are...

I'm not sure how it happens, but next thing I know, my mouth crashes against his, my hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair. He tastes like antiseptic, but I don't find it strange, considering we are in a hospital. His body, for the first time so close, is firm and hard against mine, and I barely resist the urge to run my hands all over him. I snap out of it when I feel his hands grab my hips.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

I pull away from him, eyes wide, my hands flying over my mouth. He looks as shocked as me. But there is a somewhat pretty shade of red on his cheek. And his lips look so kissable...

What the hell am I thinking? And what the hell did I just do?

I kissed Mellark. I kissed him. Oh, no. No, no, no, no. This is so wrong! How did it even cross my mind to kiss him? This is Mellark! The man I've been hating for eight, long years. That has been ruining my life since the first day we met. Oh, God. What have I done? I have to get out of here. Right now!

I turn around and open the door, but with a speed that I didn't know he possessed, Mellark shoves it closed again forcefully.

"You don't get to kiss me and then walk away, Everdeen." he growls in my ear. The sound is enough to rouse goosebumps all over my neck. Slowly, one of his hands reaches the bun I put my braid in before surgery and removes the bobby pins keeping it in place.

"What do you want from me, Mellark?" I say breathlessly.

"I want you to turn around."

I do as I'm told, slowly, very slowly, and he locks the door.

I look up at his eyes. His pupils are so dilated that I can see only a tiny blue circle around them. Everything else is fire. Burning so bright that it ignite something deep down inside me.

His left hand cups my cheek as his thumb slides over my features. The dark eyebrow, the high cheekbone, the tender lips. His touch is so light that it tickles. I want to close my eyes, looking at him almost too much to endure, but I can't. I'm hypnotized by that thing I see flashing in his eyes as they follow his wandering thumb.

With much more grace than I used, he brings my face closer, lightly cocks his head sideways, and kisses me. It starts as a light brush, almost non existent, but soon intensifies. I can't help the moan that escapes from me when his tongue swipes over my lips, asking for entry.

I let my tongue twirl around his when it invades my mouth. He growls. I grab his biceps.

He uses his body to press me back against the door.

His hands start roaming. They move slowly over my shoulders and sides, stopping only for a second to lightly brush the undersides of my breasts, eliciting a moan from me.

We break the kiss to catch our breath. I don't know what he sees in my eyes as he looks into them for a long moment, but when he resumes our make out session, it is with a renewed intensity and much more passion.

His mouth moves from mine to the sensitive skin of my neck, his stubble probably leaving a sign on my cheek. His hands grab my breasts and knead them with vigor. I don't think it is possible, but it feels so good even over my clothes. But it's not enough.

I tug at his shirt, making him understand that I want it off. He tears himself away from me just long enough to get the shirt over his head and...

Oh, my God.

I bite my bottom lip as my eyes roams over him. Is he even real? His upper body is all taunt muscles flexing as his arms go back to his sides. His shoulders are broad and firm, and his abs, a perfect six pack, quiver with his accelerated breathing. A sprinkle of blond hair adorns his pecs, while a slightly darker trail starts at his belly button and disappears under his trousers. And his oblique lateral abdominal muscles... I've always found that particular set of muscles attractive, but his are downright sexy.

Mellark chuckles a little, distracting me from my examination. "Your turn." he says seductively, flashing me that stupid smile.

What the hell is happening? How did we get from fighting to stripping in front of each other? And how can I let this happen? I always pitied those women that fell for Mellark's charm, and now it's me that can't wait to get out of her clothes.

My shirt couldn't fly to the floor faster. In the spur of the moment, I decide to take off my trousers, too. I let them fall and step out of them after I've toed my sneakers and socks off, exposing my mismatched underwear and my half naked body.

Mellark moans. "I knew it." He doesn't waste much time before he reattaches his lips to my skin. I think he may have left a hickey at the base of my neck.

My hands cling to his back, fingers digging in the hard flesh there.

His kisses move slowly downwards, lips never leaving my skin in their descent. They skim over my clavicles, bury themselves in the valley between my breasts, brush along the underside of my left breast and the left side to the hip, that he nibbles lightly. He leaves a trail of kisses from hip to hip following the rim of my underwear, coming back to let his tongue dip into my belly button.

His hands caress my legs from ankles to hips, stopping to squeeze my thighs. I feel his thumbs hooking around the side of my underwear and I'm startled to feel them slide down my legs.

"What are you doing?" I ask wide-eyed as I look at him kneeling in front of me.

He looks up, and just this sight makes me quiver. "Let me."

I nod, unable to speak.

When my underwear are gone, Mellark put my right leg over his shoulder and takes a good look at me. "So pretty." he says, licking his lips. He sniffs, obviously catching the scent of the arousal that have been seeping out of me under his kisses. "And so good." he moans.

His tongue swipes slowly over my folds and then presses lightly over my clit, before his lips close around it and he sucks lightly on it.

No one has ever gone down on me. Gale had offered to once, but I refused, more than a little grossed out at the idea of his mouth anywhere near my vagina. But now that Mellark's mouth is giving me the most intense pleasure I've ever felt in my life, I wonder why I didn't try this sooner.

He moves his tongue in and out of me, a warm, soft sensation so different from regular sex. It feels so good that I almost forget we are in a hospital. There're people working just outside this door. What would they think if they found us in this very compromising position? Quiet. I must keep quiet. But I can't stop a moan when his thumb starts making circles over my clit in time with his tongue.

"Oh, God." I stutter.

Mellark snorts. It should probably annoy me, but the vibration feels too good against me. He leans his head back a little and looks up at me. "I usually go with Peeta, but God is fine, too."

"Ugh. Shut up. Put your mouth to better use." I say, pulling his head back between my legs.

He laughs again, and I have to bite my bottom lip not to cry out.

His mouth and hand have switched place. Now his lips are closed around my clit, the tip of his tongue sometimes gracing it, while first one, then two thick fingers pump into me rhythmically.

My hands are restless as Mellark – no, Peeta... as Peeta works on me. One grabs a hold of his head, trying to pull him even closer. I probably pull too hard at his hair, though, because he moans. But I don't really care, if this feeling is the result. My other hand grabs my breast over the bra, kneading it like Peeta had done earlier. It doesn't feel the same, but it's still something.

Things change when the movement of his fingers inside me alters from in and out to a come hither gesture. Those talented, surgeon's fingers. He must be touching the perfect spot, because not so long after that I can feel the pleasure coil rapidly inside me, mounting higher and higher as he sucks harder on my clit.

My orgasm hits me stronger than I expected it to. My legs shake furiously, but Peeta's hands keep me upright as I slowly come down from my high.

My head hits the door behind me. "The rumors were true, eh?"

"What rumors?" Peeta asks getting up.

"Those about you being a loyal and grateful patron at the Y diner."

His hand wiping my arousal from his mouth and chin covers his laugh. "This is the first time I hear it worded that way."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't the captain of the debate team." I tease him.

"Yeah, I've been blessed with a silver tongue." He wiggles his eyebrows and smirks, proud of his pun.

I roll my eyes. "God, I hate you so much." I say, shoving him away.

Peeta chuckles and grabs my hips, pulling me flush against him as he walks backwards. "Yeah, yeah. Me, too." But the playful spark in his eyes doesn't make it sound that real. Neither does his erection, pressed against my abdomen, hard and long.

When the back of his knees touch the bed, Peeta sit down and pulls me between his open legs. He looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on random spots. His stare is enough to make my inner walls pulse again.

He suddenly clears his throat, looking up at my face. "Um, this is gonna be awkward." He glances down. "Do you, um... Do you have a condom with you."

Really? Is he really asking me if I would take a prophylactic with me during surgery? And where does he think I would put it? "Do you think I keep condoms in my bra?"

He chuckles. "Yeah, right. Um, I don't have one on me. But I really, really..." His eyes slide slowly over me, his thumbs drawing circles over my hips.

I get what he wants to say. Just looking at him shirtless and seated on this bed makes me want to do things to him that I didn't know I would ever want to. Like licking his abs throughout, or sucking on his nipples. "It's okay. We can do it without a condom." I say, apparently unable to resist my hormones even though my head is telling me it is not a really good idea.

Peeta's eyes widens. "Are you sure about it?" he asks. "I want you to feel safe, you know?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, um... I've been tested last month and I'm clean. I haven't had sex since then."

I realize just now what Peeta was concerned about, and God if it is awkward. I mean, it's not every day that I discuss about possible STDs with my arch-nemesis. But it's not every day that I let him make me come using only his mouth and fingers either. So, I have to suck it up. We are adults, doctors, for God's sake. And we want to have sex. With each other, apparently.

"Um.. I've been tested sometimes last year. But you know that I've... not been... active for a long time."

"So I'll just... pull it out."

"Yeah." I swallow. "I-I'm on the pill, just so you know."

Peeta looks confused. "Really? But you said you haven't had sex in eight years."

"Not a good reason to get off the pill. Now shut up so we can get this started."

Peeta grins seductively. "As you wish." He pulls me down to sit on his lap and his lips crash over mine.

Never breaking the kiss, I move to straddle him, his covered erection now directly where I want it. I grind down on him, rotating my hips with purpose. His hands grab my ass and help me move over him.

A shiver goes through his body and he has to take a break. "Oh, God."

I lick the milky-white skin of his neck and suck on his lobe. "No, Katniss."

He grabs my thighs and, with a grunt, flips us over the bed so now I'm under him.

Wordlessly, I help him move his trousers and boxer just enough to be out of the way. Then my hands grab a hold of his ass. The nurses were right. These are some hot buns indeed.

Peeta fills me up in a fast stroke. It's been so long since the last time that it burns a little, and I have to wait a second to get used to the feeling of him inside me. But every possible discomfort is wiped away as he starts thrusting, sharp, deep slaps that make me slide up over the bed, slow, sensual caresses that bring me back to him.

To quiet my moans, I latch my mouth at his shoulder, biting down. Peeta grunts into my ear and his thrusts grow in intensity and speed.

I feel myself getting closer to the edge for a second time rapidly, Peeta's pelvic bone somehow pushing on my clit with every thrust in. I claw at his back, biting my lip to stifle my moans, growing in pitch the closer I get to the peak.

I come suddenly, breathing out his name, the final 'a' sounding like a long, satisfied sigh.

I whimper when he pulls out of me, but I can't really protest as I watch for the first time his expression when he comes. The slaked jaw, the slightly scrunched brow, the closed eyes. He is like a piece of art.

Peeta rolls to the side and we lay here, side to side, watching the ceiling as we take our breath.

"Whoa." I says after a while.

"Yeah." He chuckles. "Will you tell me now why are you mad at me?"

I'm confused by the sudden change of topic. "What?"

"I know you're not really mad because you're not winning this thing the way you wanted. So why are you mad?"

I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He is looking at me with a serious face that I've seen only in the OR before. The intensity in his eyes is so strong that I can barely look at him.

But he is right. I'm not mad about not winning. There is something else that is disturbing me. It takes me a while to realize what it actually is.

"I know what you can and can't do, Mellark. You're so good at what you do. And... when you said you were leaving Cardio for Pediatrics... It felt like you were running away, giving up on something you are really good at. And it made me think that, if someone as good as you gave up, what was keeping me from give up, too?"

"That's bullshit."

Okay, I wasn't expecting this reaction. "I'm sorry?"

"That's bullshit." he repeats, turning on his side and propping his head on his hand. "There's nothing in this world that could make you give up on Cardio. It is your life mission. For me it's different."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to become a cardiothoracic surgeon. It was my mother's idea. And I couldn't actually tell her no, because... well, she's not the easiest person to deal with. But I got to a point where... I simply don't care about it anymore. I found something that I am passionate about, and I want to do this. So, I'm not really running away."

These were details about Peeta's life that I never knew. Probably would never have if it hadn't been for this completely unexpected occurrence between us. I highly doubt I would have ever asked him about it.

He suddenly smiles. "Hey, you know something?"

Yet again another change of topic. Was he always like this? "What?"

"You called me by name when you came." He bites his lip as he leans down towards me, visibly satisfied with himself.

I groan and shove him. "Shut up, Mellark!"


End file.
